Drunk Nights
by writingonandon
Summary: Sometimes being a bartender really sucks... especially when it's a drunk night and your so called 'hero' is L.A.T.E.


**Drunk Nights**

**CloxTif**

**Disclaimer: **If I had the money... when I get to college though...

I hate drunk nights. Really...hate them... I call them drunk nights because...well, it's at night... And almost everyone at the Seventh Heaven is drunk. Drowning out their sorrows and getting themselves drunk... a temporary memory loss to endure the next morning. Plus the hangovers...ooh, not pleasant.

"Hey lady! Another Martini over here!"

I look over to the customer, "You sure about that, man?"

"Sure, I'm sure!"

Oh well... he wasn't _that_ drunk. At least, not yet... What's so wrong about giving the guy what he wants? He gets his Martini, I get more money, and Marlene and Denzel get a better chance at education. A triple win.

I get his Martini ready.

All of a sudden, I hear a potential brawl across the bar.

"Whaddaya mean there ain't no more, kid?!!"

"Yeah! If there ain't no more, then whazz that guy drinkin' huh?"

I watched 'the guy' cringe in fear and grasp at his drink like it was the last drink in the world.

Ok... not a potential brawl. This was a case of all out bullying...

In short... not good. Not good at all.

"I'm sorry sir... but we don't serve drinks to people who have reached their limits."

I snorted quietly, thank goodness he had exchanged with 'drunks' with 'people who have reached their limits'... slow him down a bit... I bet he knew this was turning ugly.

I thought he could handle it when the guy raised his fists. I mean, I've taught them self-defence before... Denzel's quite good really...

That is, I thought he could handle it _until _the bastard raised his fists...with the additional accessory of brass knuckleheads. That's when I panicked.

The Martini would have to wait...

I was placing the glass back down when all of a sudden I witnessed a flash of faded maroon and a swish of a ponytail.

"Don't you dare touch Denzel!"

Marlene.

Bastard and co. laughed it off like it was the funniest joke in the world.

As if.

I saw Denzel pull her behind him... and a thought crossed the thresholds of my mind, 'Hey...that's just like how Cloud used to-'

_Stop that thought!!! Do not pursue. Do NOT pursue._

Dang, my mind works in mysterious ways...

I leapt over the counter, disappointing the hundreds of eyes looking to see if I was wearing a skirt. Too bad for them I wasn't, cargos are so much more mobile...

I saw the fist begin its sweep in a downward arc.

I was halfway there.

Why on the Planet did we agree to extend the bar?

The fist came closer and closer to them as I leapt over tables and drunken customers.

As I was reaching, my mind suddenly thought up a question that should have been asked before or when this whole thing got started: Where. Is. Cloud. Question-mark.

Man...I hate my mind....

My fist reached out to block the blow and I heard a sickening crunch before suddenly having this very painful sensation in my right fist.

I looked up. _Oh crap..._

My right fist was now a mass of blood and bone... so much for being protective....

Marlene screamed. Of course she would... she's never seen my fist looking like that before. The worst injuries she's ever seen are the ones caused by geostigma. So yeah, a bloodied, crushed fist might be a little high on her gore level...

"Get upstairs, both of you..." I told them before turning back to the stupid drunk.

He was soo gonna pay... through both his pocket _and_ his body condition.

Another question popped up in my mind : Why isn't anybody helping? Can't they even recognise a damsel in distress anymore?

Oh wait...it was a drunk night....

The bastard moved unsteadily... definitely drunk. Also, definitely going down.

I stuck out my unhurt hand and flicked him on the forehead, concentrating my strength in that one little flick.

_Might as well embarrass him on the way to the ground...after all he started it..._

The big guy fell.

I turned to the goon who had been sitting beside him, "Pay up and get him out of here..."

He tried to argue. I let loose.

I was getting sick and tired of seeing drunks sprawled all over my bar. Not to mention I was feeling grouchy from that throbbing hand the pain-in-the-neck had given me.

"In fact, _everyone leave_!!!" I yelled to the whole bar, "Everyone pay up and leave!!!"

Nobody moved.

Suddenly I heard the sound of a motorcycle outside, we all heard it.

The bar came to life.

They all started moving... the ones who'd been thrown out by Cloud before moved fastest. The ones who saw him throw people out were on their heels.

My 'hero' entered through the open door, "Teef?"

I grabbed a few high potions of the counter, and retreated upstairs to sulk.

* * *

He was hardly there anymore.

He was always late... I don't know how he does it but he somehow always manages to be late.

It's darned annoying sometimes.

Because sometimes when I need him, he isn't there. The idiot's too busy being late.

Idiot.

I finish bandaging my hand and after forcing down the third vial of high-potion, I freefall onto my bed, facedown.

I close my eyes and try to imagine that I'm in a different world. I randomly select a topic to think about.

I let my brain run free.

Somewhere in the real world, I hear a door open. Somehow, I know it's him. Somehow, I can feel him moving across the room. I can imagine his gait, picture it in my mind.

Suddenly the section of the bed where I'm lying down sinks lower. He's sitting down beside me.

_Oh, crap... now his scent is here too..._

He smells of the outdoors, like the newly planted forests and the dusty desert plains combined with that familiar scent of pine...

It's not fair... he's not supposed to smell this good.

He reaches out a hand and strokes my hair...

The silence in the air takes on a poignant mood, his quiet, sorta-depressed, dark, angsty mood mixes with my angry-ok-maybe-not-that much mood.

I like the feeling of someone stroking my hair. It feels like my mom's touch, but I know it's him 'cause his scent is everywhere... stupid idiot.

_Dare he talk? _

"...Teef?"

_Ok, he dares._

I just keep quiet, thinking of other things...unconsciously focusing on what he has to say because the instances when he says something are usually so rare. Besides, I don't want to scare him away... he'll clam up again if I say a word even if he's yearning to hear my voice.

"I'm...really sorry... I was late...again."

_Let him talk, Tifa... just hear him out..._

"I had to do a delivery to Kalm and Wutai... but I know that that's not a good enough excuse..."

I'm too lazy to speak.

"I met Yuffie..."

I'm perking up... stupid idiot, why did he have to mention Yuffie's name?

"She says to tell you 'Hi' and-"

I hear him fumbling around for something.

Then I hear him take out something and snap it open, it's his phone.

_So he's finally using it for something other than voicemail._

He's holding it close to my ear... all of a sudden I hear Yuffie's voice.

"Hiya Teef! Listen, don't be angry with Cloud, kay? I sorta... dragged him around Wutai a bit. I know, I know... you're asking why right? It's 'cause I wanted to show him off a bit ya know? So yeah, that's why he's late... Sorry, I'll make it up to you by coming down next week kay? See ya! Bye!"

_Does that still count as voicemail? Ok...maybe he still hasn't gotten out of the habit of using his phone as voicemail..._

He's waiting in silence... he's comfortable in silence. Maybe I'll keep it like that.

"Teef? I'm sorry."

"You're forgiven," I mumble into my pillow.

"But-"

"You're forgiven. Just don't be late again," I say into the pillow.

His sensitive ears don't pick it up this time.

"Huh?"

Forcing me to get my face out of the pillow and turn around and stare into those annoying blue orbs.

"You. Are. Forgiven," I say, teeth gritted. I'm trying my best not to growl at him.

"I heard that but-"

"Just don't be late again."

"O...k."

I drop my head into the pillow again burying my face and smelling lavender shampoo. It's better than smelling the outdoors.

"You're still angry."

He said it in such a matter-of-fact manner that I just had to laugh, and then look like I'm not laughing 'cause I don't want to let go of it yet.

"How are your fists?"

I'm a bit surprised at the change of topic... but hey, whatever's fine. So, I play along... coming out of hiding...

"Healing, but not healed enough."

"Oh... Good..."

My curiosity's piqued, "Why do you ask?"

"Just making sure I can keep my face."

The cocky idiot. "Stop being such an idiot will ya?"

"Nope."

"When did you get so cocky?"

He just chuckles, "Glad you noticed."

I glare at him... or try to look like I'm glaring at him. He's kinda impossible to glare at, especially if you are trying to fake it.

He just raises his eyebrows and gives me a lopsided grin, as if it's normal to have your best friend staring daggers at you when you get back from a delivery....

I merely fall back into the pillow, making a mental note in my head to fluff it up later because at the rate that I'm falling into it, it's going to be pretty squashed by the time I get ready for bed.

I feel a weight lift off the bed... and the part that sank sprang up again. He probably got tired of putting up with me.

I can hear him entering the bathroom, the familiar hum of the fluorescent light as it comes on. He's brushing his teeth , a new scent floats in the air... Mint, his favourite toothpaste flavour... The sound of the toothbrush clinking back into place in the glass is soon followed by the sound of rushing water, gurgling as it flows into the drainpipes. Then I hear a rustling, and I know that he's changing into his familiar blue t-shirt and flannel pants. He's getting ready for bed.

I quietly lift up my head and change into my own t-shirt and shorts, wondering whether I should brush my teeth _again_ 'cause I brushed it after dinner before opening hours. Hey...I'm tired too... Then, I freefall onto my bed, facedown into the pillow... and I allow myself the luxury of drifting off into a dreamland. Wandering into a world where there is no sorrow and everyone's happy. There is no death, and there is no need to kill or murder... plain bliss and absolutely impossible. The word 'impossible' reminds me that I haven't left the other world yet... _Oh sheesh..._

A sudden sinking of the bed side (We got fed up of getting stuck in the small gap in the middle and opted for a king sized bed. We were sleeping in each other's arms anyways.) warns me of his presence. _Now there's mint mixed into that outdoor/desert sand/pine scent... somebody help me.... _

I can hear him pulling the blanket up to his chin, like a little kid hiding away from monsters.

We both lie there. Neither of us wants to break the silence; I'm supposed to be angry, and he doesn't want to end up sleeping on the couch again. I try my best to drift off into the dreamland.

And then all of a sudden, like a dam breaking... the tension in the air breaks. His arms are around me, he's nuzzling his face in my hair and I can feel his blond spikes tickle my cheek.

I feel a repeated wet sensation on my neck, he's kissing it like there's no tomorrow. I'm at a loss about what to do...shove him away? I'm enjoying it too.

His rests his forehead against my cheek... "I'm sorry..." he breathes into my ear. _Please tell me he's not trying to be charming..._

I fall under his spell. It's virtually impossible to remain angry at Cloud... this is my third time trying. And I still fail... Especially when he makes an effort to keep you from being angry at him, it's something to do with those eyes...

He's darned persistent, not that it isn't working... It's working. It's working way too well.

Finally he adds the finishing touches to his elaborate crusade for forgiveness... he nudges his cheek against mine. And then... his mouth begs for entrance.

I play around a bit, not letting him... enjoying his playful licks. And then, when I decide that I've had enough... I give entrance.

And so... we kiss. It's gentle, unlike most kisses. We're both ferocious fighters and when roused can terrify most people... and we are the direct opposite when we kiss. Sure, it's passionate...but we don't go all out. We prefer to keep our kisses gentle and poignant. They seem to have more meaning that way.

Finally, his eyes meet mine. And my 'wall' begins to crack. I give in to a smile. That's all he needs, the final stepping stone in his crusade.

"I knew you weren't _that_ angry with me..."

I chuckle, "Still trying to be cocky, I see..."

And then he suddenly brings the mood back to serious... "No, really... I'm sorry for being late."

I just smile, "And like I said.... you're forgiven."

Now it's his turn to smile, "Alright then. Shall we go to bed now, Ms. Lockheart?"

"Very well then, Mr. Strife."

He pulls me down into his arms, leaving me no choice but to use them as a pillow.

"I kinda noticed that your pillow was getting squashed at the rate you were freefalling into it."

I merely snuggle up to him and bury my face into his shirt, "Shut up."

He chuckles and just like that, the two of us enter another world together, leaving reality and the uncomfortable memory of a drunk night behind.

*END*

**A/N: ** Yes... drunk nights are horrible... But for heroes...better late than never...


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